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"Grant Hyde of Maekyon," Sykora says, when he's drawn them a bath and she's remembered how to talk. "What the fuck was that knot you tied me into?"

"That was the, uh." He opens his legs to give her room to sit, and wanders through his reconfigured language pathways. "That's called a Full Nelson, I think."

"What's a Nelson?"

"A Maekyonite name."

"Well. When we conquer your planet, we need to find Mr. or Miss Nelson and present them with some sort of award in recognition of their contribution to sexology." She pants a laugh. "You're such a fucking stud. You've gotten so strong. Every time I look at you." She traces the line of his bicep. A contented purr rumbles her against him. "Gods of the fucking Firmament. Your arms."

He examines himself, under the cooing touch of his well-fucked wife. "Huh," he says. He flexes experimentally. It's been happening so slow that he hasn't had cause to really look at it. But at some point in his life aboard the Black Pike, between his lessons with Ajax and his time in the weight room and the sheer gravity, Grant Hyde has gotten kinda yoked.

Sykora sticks her butt up above the surface of the water and peers over her shoulder, across the cabin at her vanity mirror. "You could have gone harder. I'm barely even pink."

"I didn't want you to have trouble sitting or anything."

"That's not how a nobleman ought to spank."

"Nice try." He lathers shampoo in his palms and brushes them through her hair. "Not falling for this bit again."

"Hellfire."

"When did you switch from actually fighting me to gassing me up?"

"Uh. I don't remember." Her tail curls abashedly. "Probably after I was a total forgetful bastard about compulsion. I'm…" She forces the word out again. "Sorry, dove. I really am."

"It's okay," he says. He reaches to the edge of the tub, where the plate of dumplings is balanced, and takes a bite of one. "I was yelling, too. Maybe we were just hangry or something."

She shakes her sudsy head. "Taiikari pregnancy can, uh… it can sort of send you out of whack, emotionally."

"Oh, shit. I didn't even think of that." He wraps an arm over her, palm to bellybutton, and slides her closer. "Think that happens to Maekyonites, too."

"I didn't think of it either," she says. "I'll remember to take a breath next time."

He holds a dumpling up to her. "Now I feel forgetful."

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She opens her lips and lets him pop it into her mouth. She sits cross-legged in his lap as she chews. "The dispute was genuine enough, even if the hormones kicked it higher."

Grant sighs. "Yeah. It was."

"Can you just—can we go back and imagine I made all my points with far less venom?"

"I think we just have really different ideas about crime," Grant says. "You talk about it like it's a disease that needs medicine. The Maekyonite view is, uh… well, it depends on who you talk to. But it's—I guess it's society and circumstance as much as it is individual, is how I learned it."

Sykora's brow furrows. "How so?"

"We might need to steal some books from Maekyon," Grant says. "A college dropout isn't gonna explain it like Foucault can."

"I'll take your word on that."

"Maybe we table it for now."

Her face grows eager. "Yes, please. If that's an option."

He smiles despite himself. "Okay."

"It's not something I can change anyway, the re-ed facilities," she says. "Not without a cruiserload of effort and time that I just don't have at the moment. And I hate arguing with you, sexual consequences aside."

"Just one thing," Grant says. "Can I ask a question? And offer a compromise?"

Her mouth twists, but she nods her assent.

"This Compound 71 we're charged to make," he says. "The injectable anticompulsion. When it's ready, what's the plan with it?"

"I don't know."

"And Compound 70. Are they going to be revealed simultaneously?"

"Dove, I really don't know. I wish I did."

"I'll make a deal with you," he says. "I will shut up about this. For a while, anyway. I hate it, but I hated how prison worked in my country on Maekyon, too, so it's not like I've got a good alternative. I think there's a version of a place like Shakami that I would be satisfied with. But I can't be the guy who sends people there. Not yet. I won't bug you about it all the time, and I get I can't just tear the place down, but I can't just let it be like that forever."

She lifts his hand to her lips and kisses the tip of his thumb. "All right. What do we do?"

"Here's my compromise," he says, as she works her way along the line. "When Compound 70 becomes public knowledge—"

Sykora pauses on the finger with his wedding ring. "If."

"It's coming out," Grant says. "Maekyonites are about to break everyone's brains and introduce a totally uncompellable population of hunks, right?"

She hums pensively. "I suppose that's true."

"If I'm the Empress, that's when I rip the bandage off. Pretend it was just discovered and use it to grease the wheels on the Maekyon annexation."

"That's rather coldly calculated of you, Grantyde."

He shrugs. "I'm just being realistic."

"If that does happen," she says, "we will be militant about its regulation. You and me."

"And we won't fight about those calls?"

"We might." Her voice is firm. "But then we'll work it out and find a place we're happy. That's what we do. And I won't be on this hormonal rollercoaster any longer." She sloshes her foot out of the water and pushes herself snugger against him off the wall of the tub. "You were saying about your compromise?"

"When the Empire finds out about Compound 70, the people who decide about these reeducation places, and the people responsible for flashing the inmates, they all need to take it and see what it is they're inflicting," he says. "Every single one of them. And once they understand what it is they're doing, and how it feels, we'll have a conversation about compulsion's place in re-ed."

She sighs and rests his hand on her stomach. "You have a deal, Prince Grantyde."

"Even if that includes you?"

"Even then," she says. "To be honest, I am quite curious about how it feels, the compulsion."

He gives her a companionable squeeze. "I bet you are."

She splashes him. "What does that mean, Mr. Trying-to-be-nice?"

"I dunno, Mrs. Maybe-you-should."

She folds her fingers over his. "Where will we take them first?"

"Who?"

"Our babies," she says. "When their father's planet is ready to receive them, what's the first thing we'll show them?"

He cups a handful of steamy water and lets it cascade down her inky locks.

"Penguins," he decides. "I'm gonna show you guys the penguins."

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